


The North is Cold in More Ways Than One

by visenya__v



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys deserves respect, F/M, Jon isn't a passive potato, Jonerys, Stark Siblings - Freeform, and if D&D won't give it to her, pre-Battle of Winterfell, s08e01 spoilers, then i will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:08:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visenya__v/pseuds/visenya__v
Summary: “They act as if I were Aegon the Conqueror coming to intimidate them into submission! I’ve come to help them, to save them, and all I ask is loyalty and respect in return, as any ruler would.”Daenerys was used to being treated with disrespect in Essos, but she was hoping she'd be received differently in the homeland she'd dreamed of since childhood. But her reception at Winterfell made clear that a Targaryen was not welcome in the North, and both Daenerys and Jon are unhappy about it.





	1. A Cold Reception

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this after episode two I think, and was too busy to finish it before any more episodes aired. But better late than never! I've been too fed up with Daenerys' treatment this season that I needed to keep writing it.

Many, many moons had passed since a Targaryen had last ventured North. Most of the smallfolk had never seen a member of the fabled family before, so one could understand their tendency to stare at Queen Daenerys’ silver hair and lilac eyes. Even without her dragons flying overhead and her foreign soldiers marching through Wintertown, Daenerys would have been an object of fascination and suspicion amongst the Northerners.

 

Jon had warned her as much. “Northerners are wary of outsiders, your grace, not without good reason. Their loyalty is hard won, but once it is earned, more loyal people you will not know.”

 

With Jon’s cautions in mind, Daenerys entered Winterfell expecting some stiff manners and reluctant bows from the assembled lords and ladies. She’d endured much worse disrespect throughout her life, after all. But what she did not expect, was to be greeted with brazen bitterness and disdain, especially not from Jon’s own family. Naturally, Daenerys bristled at this reception. “They act as if I were Aegon the Conqueror coming to intimidate them into submission! I’ve come to help them, to _save_ them, and all I ask is loyalty and respect in return, as any ruler would.” The queen was pacing in front of the fireplace in her solar while her Hand, the former King in the North, and Ser Jorah sat watching her.

 

“I told you, Northerners are stubborn, your grace.” Truth be told, Jon was almost as bothered by his countrymen’s treatment of Dany as she was. All of this equivocating from the Northern lords and ladies amounted to wasted time and energy, when they had so little of either to spare. However, Jon knew that their hostility wouldn’t last forever; once the gravity of their situation finally weighed heavily upon them, as it did him, they would surely change course.

 

Tyrion scoffed at Jon’s words. “And they like the rest of the realm to know it. Quite proud of their bullheadedness. I suppose there’s not much to brag about if you’re from the North.” Tyrion caught the slightly irritated look from Jon and raised his hands. “Meaning no offense, of course.”

 

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I am stubborn as well.” The queen replied sarcastically.

 

“As if we could forget, Khaleesi.” Jorah smiled one of his half-smiles, thinking of all the times he was witness to her acute stubbornness. Speaking as somewhat of an expert on the subject, he’d never known a more stubborn, determined person in his life, and he grew up amongst some of the most stalwart men and women in Westeros.

 

Daenerys offered Jorah a brief smirk but continued her pacing. “Tell me, do they not see what I have already done for them? Even before Jon bent the knee, I agreed to aid the North in their fight against the dead. And I have paid dearly for it before any of them have even seen a single wight.”

 

Jon knew she was right; everyone who had been north of the Wall waiting to be saved by Daenerys and her dragons knew what she’d risked and lost. Yet all the skeptical Northerners allowed themselves to see was a foreign woman threatening them with fire and blood. “Your grace, I will do everything I can to make them understand. All of this distrust and skepticism can only hurt the living and help the dead as they march nearer every day and night.”

 

The queen stopped and turned to face Jon, her silver curls catching the light of the fire. “And your sisters?”

 

“What of my sisters?”

 

“They despise my presence in your home.”

 

Jon opened his mouth to refute her claim but Dany spoke over him. “You know it, Jon, they don’t hide it. So what about them? Are you going to do everything you can to make them understand as well?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders in exasperation, Jon said, “I’ve told them my reasons for supporting your claim, I don’t know what more I can do. I can’t force them to see what they refuse to, Dany. Er, your grace.”

 

Ser Jorah and Tyrion eyed each other at Jon’s brief informality with their queen. Something to keep an eye on.

 

“I don’t expect them to worship me, but I do expect them to acknowledge that their brother has pledged his loyalty to me and afford me the respect and decency that I deserve. You know I wouldn’t be demanding this if I thought I hadn’t earned it, Jon. I’m not Cersei. Or a lord.”

 

Jon sighed. “Of course not, your grace. As I said, they will all see that in time, they have to.”

 

“I suppose I didn’t much care for Targaryens before I met you, Khaleesi.” Jorah piped up from his seat near the window. Seeing his queen’s furrowed eyebrows, he continued, “The Starks were loved by all in the North. When the Mad King burned Lord Rickard and Brandon, he burned what little threads of allegiance still clung between the wolf and the dragon, souring them to every Northerner.”

 

“Yes, Ser Jorah, thank you for reminding me of my father’s misdeeds once more.”

 

“I only mean to say, my queen, that this…chilliness from the Northerners is due to no fault of your own.”

 

Jon made another attempt at consolation, “We once spoke about not judging each other on the sins of our ancestors. You and I understand this, but not everyone does, your grace. Some forgive easier than others, and the North--”

 

“Yes, yes, the North remembers. Stubbornness and remembering, the two things Northerners are good at.” Tyrion interrupted, pouring some more wine into his goblet.

 

“Surviving.” Jorah offered.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“We’re good at surviving too.” The queen’s Hand raised his drink towards Ser Jorah. “That you are, my good ser. That will be of particular use shortly, I think. Care to teach the rest of us how to do it?”

 

Tyrion’s remarks earned small smiles from everyone, even Daenerys. She then signed and turned to face the fireplace. “Thank you for your counsel, my lords.” She spoke no more and the three men took that to mean they were dismissed. The queen looked over her shoulder just before Jon reached the door and met his eyes, lilac staring into gray.

 

Jon paused, then stepped back and closed the heavy oak door behind Jorah and Tyrion. He waited for his queen to speak first, unsure of her intentions. The two of them hadn’t had much time together since arriving at Winterfell, always surrounded by other people or too busy. They had had an enviable amount of time to spend with each other on the boat travelling to White Harbor, but now their time was too valuable.

 

Daenerys faced towards the fire once more, leaving Jon to gaze at her intricate braids. “It’s colder here than I anticipated.”

 

Jon was a bit taken aback by this bit of small talk from the queen. “Are your rooms not warm enough, your grace? We can have someone tending your fires from dawn till dusk if need be.”

 

She smiled at his concern, though Jon couldn’t see it. “I expect they are as warm as they can be.” Daenerys tore her eyes away from the mesmerizing flames before her and moved to sit down. “It’s just, I’ve spent my whole life in sunshine and heat, sometimes so much heat that I couldn’t remember what water felt like.” She looked up at Jon and he came to sit in a chair beside her.

 

“Surely not in Pentos?” Jon didn’t know everything about where Dany spent her time before she sailed to Westeros. He was worried the subject was painful for her, so he never asked. He only knew what she had volunteered herself, or what others had told him.

 

The queen shook her head. “Pentos was quite lovely. They grow the best lemons there, you know. No, the worst heat was in the Red Waste before we reached Qarth.”

 

Jon tilted his head, unfamiliar with those places. “You’ve been to so many places I’ve never even heard of. Seen so many things I’ll never see.” Though he had seen more than the average Westerosi would, going beyond the Wall. Still, the places Dany had been all sounded so exotic and mysterious.

 

“I don’t imagine you’d fare well in Qarth, Jon. All your furs would suffocate you in the heat.” She laughed at the faux affronted look on her companion’s face.

 

“Perhaps not. Though I’ve been known to remove my furs once or twice.” There was a playful note in his otherwise serious voice.

 

Daenerys raised an eyebrow, enjoying the path of their conversation. “Once or twice?”

 

“Give or take a few.”

 

“A few indeed.” Both of their minds went back to their time on the boat, leaving a different kind of heat between them.

 

“Dany,” feeling a wave of affection, Jon reached out and took one of his queen’s hands in his, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way my people have treated you and your people. I’m sorry for the way my family has treated you and your family. I’m sorry my home doesn’t feel like home to you too. I wish that it could.”

 

Touched by Jon’s words and the sincerity in his eyes, she lifted her free hand and laid it on his cheek. She just looked into his face with a sad smile on her lips, then leaned forward and kissed him gently. Jon gathered his queen into his arms and with her pale cheek on his shoulder, Dany let herself have a moment of peace and warmth in this cold and unfriendly land she had found herself in.


	2. Convening of the Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please, Sansa. Do this for me. You two can’t go on disrespecting the queen that I chose to pledge loyalty to."
> 
> Jon convenes his siblings to discuss their attitude towards Daenerys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this little addition before The Fateful Episode so finishing it afterwards was painful to say the least. But I wanted to write Jon getting upset with his siblings for their rudeness to Daenerys, since he barely says anything to them about it in the show.

As he sat in his chambers waiting for his siblings to arrive, Jon again thought of how unlikely it was that he was even here in Winterfell, with three family members he once thought he’d never see again. Seeing Sansa and Bran again had been wonderful, but there was always a corner of his mind that was melancholy about Arya’s absence. He and his littlest sister held a certain kinship between them since Arya was old enough to talk, and when he left for the Wall all those years ago, it was Arya that he was most sad to say goodbye to. Neither Jon nor Sansa had heard any word of their sister since she disappeared in King’s Landing after their father’s murder, and though Jon tried not to think about the possibility, sometimes he’d worry that a horrible fate had befallen her.

 

But now Arya was here, reunited with the rest of them. After the initial excitement of seeing her again, Jon had hoped that their close bond from childhood would still hold true, and that Arya would perhaps be more inclined to see Jon’s perspective in regards to their new queen. Bran was…well, hardly Bran, and he seemed to have no personal opinion on anything. But Sansa had made her negative feelings towards Daenerys known from the start, giving the queen a cold shoulder after Dany had complimented Sansa upon entering the gates of Winterfell.

 

So Jon held out hope that Arya would understand Jon’s choices and support him and Queen Daenerys while their sister would not. However, Arya seemed as suspicious of Dany as Sansa was, one of very few things that the two young women had in common. Jon was a bit perplexed by this, as Arya, without fail, had always sided with Jon over Sansa when they were young. If he was honest with himself, which he generally tried to be, Jon was hurt by the skepticism and doubt that Arya showed toward him in regards to the dragon queen.

 

The conversation he had had with Daenerys last night had steeled his nerve to gather his siblings and discuss their disagreements. Jon had managed to persuade wildlings and Westerosi to get along, (with varying degrees of success), so surely he could handle his siblings.

 

There was a knock on the door and Sansa opened it, followed by Bran in his wheeled chair pushed along by Arya. Jon smiled at all of them, grateful to have them all together despite the circumstance.

 

“Thank you for coming, I know you’re all busy.”

 

Sansa took the chair directly across Jon. “The dead don’t rest and neither do we, apparently.” She’d barely had time for breakfast today, meeting with Lord Royce before the sun had even risen.

 

“Sansa, you’ve been doing so well as Lady of Winterfell with managing the household. It does not go unnoticed.” Jon wanted to be sure that Sansa’s disdain towards Daenerys wasn’t rooted in bitterness for feeling unappreciated.

 

His auburn-haired sister simply nodded in acknowledgment.

 

Arya spoke up next from her place by the fire beside Bran, “Has something happened?”

 

“No, nothing’s happened. I wanted to discuss some things, all of us together.” He noticed Sansa’s narrowed eyes from the corner of his own, but she said nothing.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Arya replied flatly, “It’s about the dragon queen.”

 

Arya had almost uncanny perception now, it seemed to Jon. “Queen Daenerys, yes.” Nobody said anything, so Jon continued, “I understand that she’s not well known to you, and I understand that your suspicion of her is due to having the best interest of the North at heart. But she is our queen, yours and mine, and she’s here to help us.”

 

“ _Why_ is she here to help us? Out of selflessness? I’ve never known a king or queen to be selfless, have you?” Sansa leaned back slightly in her chair, sitting tall and proper like a lady, as usual.

 

“I haven’t.” Arya replied somewhat sarcastically, moving to stand nearer to her sister.

 

“And how many kings and queens have you known? Robert, Joffrey, and Cersei aren’t exactly paragons of monarchy.” Jon could see that Sansa had a retort, but he went on, “Daenerys isn’t careless like Robert, she isn’t cruel like Joffrey, and she isn’t coldhearted like Cersei. You know me, do you think I would cede the North to anyone like that?”

 

Sansa seemed to be choosing her words carefully in her mind. “No, you wouldn’t. But mayhap your judgment is clouded.”

 

“Clouded? By what?”

 

“Well, she is rather beautiful.”

 

Jon scoffed. Surely his sister didn’t think him that naive. “Aye, she is. Does beauty preclude one from ruling?”

 

“No, but-“

 

“You knew me as a youth, did I ever moon over a girl? I’m not easily…”

 

“Seduced? Manipulated?” Arya supplied.

 

Jon furrowed his eyebrows at her. “No, I’m not.” He turned back to Sansa. “Daenerys has done nothing of the sort. I bent the knee to her because I believe she will be a good ruler, someone that each of the Seven Kingdoms will be glad to see on the Iron Throne for once in our sorry existence.”

 

Neither of his sisters said anything in reply. Bran hadn’t uttered a single word, and Jon didn’t expect him to. However, Jon looked to his brother and decided to ask him his thoughts on the matter. “Bran, what do you know of Daenerys?”

 

Bran stared solemnly at Jon for a moment before responding in his emotionless voice, “I know everything there is to know about Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

After glancing at his sisters at Bran’s strange answer, Jon continued, “Has she been a good queen to those she conquered in Essos?”

 

“She has had a chaotic reign as Queen of Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor. The slavers and noblemen opposed her, but the slaves and oppressed rejoiced in her rule. It is always difficult to overthrow tradition.”

 

Jon was a bit jealous of Bran in that moment; he would love to able to see Dany’s time in Slaver’s Bay, see her rule over an empire of her own making. “And why did Daenerys conquer those cities and overthrow their traditions?”

 

“To bring freedom to the enslaved and justice to the slavers.” Bran said matter-of-factly, staring at Jon with an owl-like gaze.

 

Nodding his thanks, Jon returned his attention to his sisters. They couldn’t ignore Bran’s words; he knew Daenerys’ past unlike any of them ever would, and he had no bias one way or the other. Jon knew the two young women were thinking the same, looking for reasons to doubt Bran’s words but finding none.

 

“You see?” Jon prompted.

 

Sansa had been looking into her goblet and swilling around its contents, and her eyes flicked up to Jon’s. “I’m sure her intentions were noble in Essos, and I applaud her for ending a horrible practice there. However, I fail to see how conquering a few cities a world away makes her fit to rule over the North.”

 

Jon was starting to lose his temper now. It seemed as if Sansa was dead set on opposing Daenerys no matter the evidence presented to her. “And what do you think, Arya? I seem to recall you always took interest in the Targaryen stories as a child.”

 

Arya tilted her head slightly. “I did.”

 

“Rhaenys and Visenya were your favorites. You used to beg me to tell you their story and scolded me if I spent too much time talking about Aegon.”

 

Both Arya and Jon smiled at the memory from another lifetime ago. “That’s right. I wanted a Dark Sister of my own.” She was quiet for a moment, then looked solemnly at her brother. “I don’t hate Daenerys.”

 

Sansa was watching her sister with a cool and penetrating eye, wary of where Arya’s words were leading.

 

“I think you would rather like her if you spent time with her. You have similar qualities.” Jon said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“You both loathe being told what to do, for one thing. You both fight for yourselves when threatened. You are both good-hearted with an exterior roughened by the world.”

 

Arya looked down at her feet, feeling a sudden surge of emotion in her chest. “Perhaps.” Was all she mustered in response.

 

Sansa was now studying her clasped hands, one eyebrow arched.

 

“In fact, I think you have similarities with her as well, Sansa. I suggest you too spend time with our queen.” He meant it more as a soft command rather than a suggestion, because he knew Sansa likely wouldn’t heed him otherwise.

 

“And when shall I find the time to laze away an evening trading stories with her?” Sansa asked indignantly.

 

“Take a meal with her, the two of you. Arya could join too.”

 

Sansa opened her mouth to reply but Jon cut her off. “Please, Sansa. Do this for me. You two can’t go on disrespecting the queen that I chose to pledge loyalty to. It’s not just my loyalty; it’s yours, Arya’s, Bran’s, and everyone else in the North. The King in the North bent the knee. We have a queen now.”


End file.
